


Iced

by Sandyclaws68



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cheese, Developing Relationship, Episode 4 Missing Moment, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandyclaws68/pseuds/Sandyclaws68
Summary: A hard fall, ice packs, the Cyrillic alphabet, and Viktor all combine into one oddly comfortable situation.





	

Yuuri groaned as he shifted against the pillow that was supporting his back. He felt like one enormous bruise; the result of a hard fall in training that afternoon while trying to master the quadruple flip. That was Viktor's signature jump and he desperately wanted to learn it, not only for his own purposes but because he knew it would please his coach. But now he was stuck half-lying, half sitting on his bed with an ice pack strapped to his shoulder, another to his elbow, and a final one resting against his hip. His sister had had to go down to the corner pharmacy to buy extra elastic bandages to secure everything.

He bit back a pained grunt as he moved the pillow under his elbow slightly, trying to make it support his arm better. Unfortunately the movement knocked the ice on his hip askew, and he couldn't stop the frustrated sigh that escaped.

“Stop fidgeting and the ice will stay where it needs to be.”

He looked towards the bedroom door, unsurprised to see Viktor there, leaning casually against the jamb, trademark smile gracing his lips. “If I don't move I'm worried I'll seize up into nothing but a pain-filled lump,” he replied, trying to push himself more upright with his uninjured left arm.

With a soft _tsk_ Viktor stepped away from the door, set a laptop down on Yuuri's desk and moved closer to the bed. “Let me help you,” he said, sliding an arm underneath the other man's left shoulder and almost effortlessly lifting him He adjusted the pillow at Yuuri's back before letting his student rest back on it, now sitting propped against the wall and facing the desk. “Is that better?” he asked, looking serious as he fixed the other pillow and the last ice pack back against Yuuri's hip.

Yuuri could feel his face heating, as it always did when in close proximity to Viktor. “Y. . Yes, better, fine,” he managed to stammer out. And when Viktor moved away and he allowed himself to relax he discovered that it truly was better and more comfortable. His sigh that time was definitely pleased.

“Here.” Viktor handed him the book he had been more or less reading, sparing a passing glance at the title, brow furrowed as he tried to make out the kanji.

Yuuri smiled a little to himself; Viktor's spoken Japanese had improved by leaps and bounds but he still had very little understanding of the written language. “It's a history,” he said, feeling a twitch in his lips as he fought a grin. “Of the Russo-Japanese War.”

He laughed out loud when Viktor's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. It took a moment for the older man to catch on; it wasn't like Yuuri teased him everyday. “Ha! Very funny.” His scowl didn't look very genuine, though.

Yuuri continued to grin. “It is a history, though,” he went on. “I sometimes find non-fiction more relaxing.” He glanced down at the book in his lap. “You don't have to stay here with me, you know. I mean, if you have work to do.” The last was spoken with a nod towards the second laptop on his desk.

With a smile Viktor pushed some stray hair away from Yuuri's eyes. “I brought the laptop in here so I could work and keep an eye on you at the same time,” he responded before going to sit in the desk chair. “I feel like this is all my fault, like maybe I'm pushing you too hard.”

“I asked you to teach me the jumps, remember?”

Viktor hummed in agreement as he turned his back to the bed, opening the computer. “I didn't need to start with something so difficult, though,” he said, half to himself. “We should have just worked on perfecting the quad Salchow.”

Since he had no response to that Yuuri simply turned his attention to his book, feeling peace settle over him as he read, the tiny clacking noise of the laptop's keys a soothing murmur in the background.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he came back to full awareness the daylight was fading outside his window and Viktor had turned on the desk lamp. He was no longer working on training schedules and choreography ideas but had his email open. Yuuri watched the Cyrillic letters walking across the screen as the older man typed. “It's a beautiful language,” he whispered.

Viktor started and turned to the bed, one hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “I thought you were asleep!” he accused. “Not lurking, waiting for a chance to give me a heart attack!” The laptop was closed with a snap. “And what do you mean 'a beautiful language'?” he asked with a laugh. “You've obviously not be paying attention any time I've spoken it.”

“No, I have,” Yuuri assured him with a shake of his head. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud but he'd listen to Viktor read the instructions for making rice if it meant he could hear his voice. “But I meant the written language,” he went on to explain. “The letters, how they fit together to form words. It's. . . elegant.”

“Really?” Viktor looked amused. “I've never really thought about it.”

“That's because it's something you've always known. It's different for someone seeing it, really seeing it, for the first time.”

“Hmmm, I suppose you're right. I find your written language to be fascinating.” He smiled and shifted in the chair, holding a notepad and a pen. “Would you like to see it handwritten?”

Yuuri nodded and blushed when the Russian bounded out of the chair and flopped beside him on the bed, somehow managing to not disturb any of the pillows or ice packs.

“Okay,” Viktor began, placing the notepad where Yuuri would be able to watch him as he wrote. “This is Japan.” He scrawled on the paper before pausing for a moment, then he wrote something else. “That means champion,” he explained with a smile, leaning his head briefly against Yuuri's.

“How would you write my name?”

With a grin Viktor quickly wrote his companion's first name. “That part is easy, since it's a Russian name too.” He stopped to think, tapping the pen against his lower lip, then it moved across the paper, leaving another word in its wake. Viktor tilted his head and studied the name. “It's not perfect, but proper names can be a tough call.”

Yuuri reached out and traced over his own name in Viktor's language. Seeing it was a strangely intimate feeling, one he couldn't explain. Viktor's smile softened as he watched, then he gently moved the other man's hand away and wrote some more. “My name,” he whispered. “Full name, including patronymic.” At Yuuri's questioning gaze he continued. “One's father's name with a suffix that makes it mean 'son of' or 'daughter of'. In my case son of Ivan,” he explained as he touched the middle word of his full name.

The almost wistful look in his eyes came as a surprise until Yuuri remembered having read that Viktor's father had died when he was barely a teenager. “Say it, please” he quietly requested. “I want to hear what it sounds like.” He turned his head as he spoke, gazing at the profile of the man beside him.

“Viktor,” the Russian began, a slight hitch in his voice as he also turned and met Yuuri's gaze. “Viktor Ivanovich Nikiforov.” As he spoke he moved closer so that by the time he spoke the final syllable of his last name their lips where barely an inch apart.

“It sounds beautiful too.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed out. “I want. . . Can I kiss you?”

Mesmerized by the soft voice, the glow of brilliant blue eyes, and the wash of breath across his heated cheeks Yuuri could only nod, letting his eyes flutter closed in the split second before warm lips connected with his. The contact was gentle and all too brief; he had barely registered the blossoming warmth in his belly before Viktor pulled away with a gentle smile.

“We should get you some more ice,” he said, doodling one last thing on the notepad before standing up and leaving the room.

Yuuri glanced back at the pad and felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the heart that encased their two names.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to actually have the Russian words and the names in Cyrillic as part of the fic but the Alt codes wouldn't work!


End file.
